


Rebuilding from the Ashes of Regret

by JarvisUandDUMEtoo



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Civil War Fix-It, Complicated Relationships, Domestic Avengers, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Steve Rogers, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Matchmaker Sam Wilson, Miscommunication, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, No character bashing, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sassy Steve Rogers, Second Chances, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers-centric, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-09 16:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18641680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JarvisUandDUMEtoo/pseuds/JarvisUandDUMEtoo
Summary: Four months after the Civil War, Steve and the rest of the Rogue Avengers return to the US to prepare for the coming of Thanos. His relationship with Tony had been on the rocks even before their explosive fight, as Steve struggled between trusting Tony and protecting him. Now Steve wants to repair things between them but there might not be anything left to salvage.





	1. Chapter 1

“What are you going to say to him?” Sam asked, leaning against the side of the jet. Steve put a box in the cargo space, and tightened the straps to hold it in place. It was already filled with all the supplies that the Rogue Avengers would need for their mission back to the US to work out the terms for their return. The boxes included clothes, paperwork, gifts, and absolutely no weapons. He had already found several knives that Natasha had hidden away and returned them to her with a disapproving look. They were on thin ice, and lucky that the US government was opening up negotiations at all. No need to push them on any of their terms, at least not so early and something as reasonable as ‘no weapons will be present at the meetings’. 

“We’re going to negotiate the terms of our return to the US and to the Avengers, I have a list of reasons why it would be beneficial to all parties-” 

“To Tony.” Sam clarified. 

“As far as I’m aware, the majority of the negotiations will be between me and the other relevant governmental bodies-” 

“Steve,” Sam said, “Cut the crap. This is going to be the first time you’ve seen him in what, three months? Four?” 

Steve dusted his hands off on his pants and shrugged. “Four months, one week, and three days. But who’s counting?” 

“Jesus, man.” Sam scrubbed a hand up and down his face. He stepped in front of Steve and put a hand on his chest before he could go back inside to get the last of the stuff. 

“What are you going to say? You need to think about it now so you don’t freeze up when we actually get there.” 

Steve brushed past him without responding. 

Sam yelled at his retreating back, “You’re going to remember this conversation tomorrow!” 

### 

After packing up their stuff, they all boarded the jet and started the trip. Steve was going as leader of the Rogues, and bringing everyone else along with him, hopefully to stay. The flight lasted about six hours even on the fancy Wakandan jet, and they arrived around nightfall. Carol Danvers, had created them politely and showed them to a set of three adjacent rooms in a small hotel adjacent to the government center, before retiring for the night. Guards walked along a chain link fence surrounding the whole property, and cameras watched from above. Though they had been promised full immunity for the duration of the talks, he felt trapped. Steve settled into his room and then the three of them had met up in Sam’s room to talk strategy. The talks tomorrow would be vital to their future, but as Natasha and Sam strategized Steve found his mind drifting. Tony was somewhere inside this fence. Maybe somewhere inside this very building. It was late, he was probably in bed, though knowing Tony, the late hour was no guarantee. Tony had always had troubles sleeping over the course of the four years they were together. Steve had to drag him to bed almost every night, and Tony would toss and turn for hours until Steve pinned him down and growled at him to please just go to sleep! It used to drive him nuts. Sometimes he’d wake up, an unconscious itch under his skin dragging him awake, and he’d find the other side of their bed empty. And he would go downstairs to the basement, where blue lights shone bright in the dark house, where impossible ideas blossomed into new life while the rest of the world slept the sleep of the dead. Down in the basement, Tony was completely in his element, writing the future in lines of fire, his hands a blur, his eyes manic. Steve had asked him once, why he worked with such fervent desperation. Tony had answered with big words, with grand visions, and with poorly concealed fear; his normally impenetrable masks broken down by time and exhaustion and familiarity, until all that was left was a man desperately making the future a better place, because he couldn’t bear to spend another second in his own past. 

So Tony built monuments, Tony built marvels, he built fame and fortunes and Steve watched him do it from the stairs outside the workshop, standing the shadows where the light didn’t reach, his feet cold against the rough concrete floor. Then he went back upstairs, to the room they were supposed to share, with the pictures of them he had framed on the nightstand and the cork board he had covered in mementos from concerts and movies they’d been to, and lied in the cold bed and drowned in the past. Things had only gotten worse from there, eventually Tony started sleeping on the cot in the lab and two months later they tried to kill each other in an airport, and again a few hours later in the bunker. 

Steve still wasn’t over him. You don’t live with someone, love someone, for almost four years then simply let it go. At least not Steve, though Tony had always said he had a problem with hanging on to the past. 

When they wrapped up their meeting in Sam’s room, Steve had no idea what the other two had said. Though he felt guilty, it was fine, they would have no problem speaking up in the meeting tomorrow if there was something else important to add. And really, what was there to say beyond warning everyone of the coming threat and reinforcing the value of a full team? He went back to his own room and changed into pajamas and fell into bed. Packing and traveling always took a lot out of him. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. There was a decent chance that he would be seeing Tony tomorrow, and though he had ignored Sam at the time, his advice now haunted him. What do you say to the man who used to be the love of your life? 

He played out a scenario in his head. Tony would approach him, with Sam and Natasha standing behind Steve. Tony would offer his hand, Steve would ignore it, and he would slowly let his hand fall, hurt. Steve desperately wanted to be bitter, to hide his personal pain behind a shield of stoicism. He wanted to say something deep, something cutting, something that would leave Tony raw and hurting like only the words of someone who knew you better than you knew yourself could do. 

The problem was that Steve wasn’t bitter. As mad as he was at Tony at the time for going after Bucky, he couldn’t blame him in the aftermath. No, he wasn’t bitter. 

He was lonely. 

He closed his eyes and played out another scenario. Their eyes would meet from across the hall. He would be too thin. He never ate enough without Steve nagging him. Tony’s eyes would widen, his hands would tremble, and he would take a step forward, without even realizing that he had done so. Steve would step forward too, and reach out a hand to shake, and Tony would ignore the hand to grab onto him in a desperate hug. 

Steve would say, “I’m sorry, I should have told you, I’m sorry,” 

Tony would whisper, “I miss you, I love you, I’m sorry too, let’s go back to the way things were,” 

And Steve would mumble “Yes, yes, yes,” into the downy soft fluff of Tony’s hair, and he would feel all on the broken parts inside him settle back into place like nothing had ever been broken. 

He liked that version better. He liked the idea of all the doubts he had had over the last few months being drowned out by a loud resounding “I love you”, all his insecurities soothed by a balm of kisses, all the baggage burned away by a fire of passion. 

Too bad he would rather die than beg Steve to take him back, and knowing that put a damper on scenario number two. 

Scenario number three was much less interesting than the first two. Tony calls him into a meeting room. They have a civil conversation. They take care of the upcoming threat. Then he goes home without Tony (if it can even be called home without Tony) and they live out the rest of their lives apart. No hatred, no passion, just endless apathy. A sedate thirty mile an hour drive through the doldrums until the final crash into the wall of oblivion. 

Scenario four. Tony hates him. Whatever they ever had between them is broken beyond repair, and it’s all Steve’s fault. Steve would enter the room and Tony would look away, cross his arms across his chest. He would shake Natasha’s and Sam’s hands then slap Steve’s away. Would yell at him, going on a twenty minute tirade of every wrong he had ever committed, in alphabetical order, accompanied by a PowerPoint. He would take what torn bits Steve still had of himself and rip it all to shreds, and he wouldn’t do a thing about it. Because he had fucked up. He knew he had fucked up, from the moment Tony had turned to him after watching that horrible video, his eyes wide and his face heartrendingly vulnerable, asking 

“Did you know?” 

Steve had always considered himself a good man. He assisted the elderly across the street and watched out for children, he kept to his word and was always ready to drop everything to help out a friend in an emergency. He didn’t lie, cheat, or steal, no matter how bad things had gotten back in the depression. He used to smoke, but as soon as he learned that it could give people cancer he quit one of the few comforting habits he had left in the new century to set a good example for all the kids who looked up to Captain America. He had even filmed a series of cheesy PSA videos for public high schools. The team teased him for it, but if they helped even one kid turn their life around than it was worth it. Might as well use the almost mythic proportions of the title of ‘Captain America’ for some good. 

Scenario five. Before he gets to the meeting room, he gets a call on the burner phone. Tony tells him not to come at all. The deal has been called off, they’re stuck in Wakanda forever. He would have had to fight to get the Government to hear them out. He wouldn’t have to sabotage anything to get the decision reversed, just not fight as hard as he could have, and the whole thing might end before it starts. Steve never sees him again, things never get resolved. 

That was enough scenarios for one night. There was nothing he could do about it now. Steve closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. 

### 

He woke up the next morning and got ready, meeting Sam and Natasha in the hall. Natasha pawed at his head. “Did you put gel in your hair?” 

Steve pushed it back into place with a huff. “This is an important meeting. I wanted to look nice.” 

“He’s trying to show off for Tony. Note the lack of beard too, after spending the last few months looking like a mountain man,” Sam told her. 

“Ah. Do you want to go back and put on a tighter shirt? We’ll wait for you.” 

“Very funny,” Steve said and walked down the hall to the conference room where everyone would be meeting. The room was mostly empty, which was unsurprising since they were ten minutes early. Carol Danvers sat at the head of the table, as was her right as the leader of the hosting pack. A black woman with short hair and a gold necklace sat beside her, and on her other side was Tony. 

Tony looked up from his tablet and Steve’s brain shorted out. There was Tony, right there. His Tony, after all these months, looking like he had just stepped out for a minute to buy more milk, and now he was back and they could pick back up exactly where they left off. 

Tony’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Rogers.” 

Steve stared at him, trying to convey everything he had felt over the last few months in a few seconds of shared eye contact. “Tony” 

Tony looked away. “Does he have to be here?” 

Carol frowned at him. “Be nice Tony, they’re going to be useful.” 

Tony leaned down in his chair. “Doubt it.” 

Steve slowly shut his eyes, digging his fingernails into his palms. He expected something like this, a slight variation on scenario three. He had prepared for a moment like this, made his plans. 

Tony tapped his papers on the table and kept his eyes averted. After all these months, they were finally together again. 

Steve didn't say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is completely written, and it will be updated as I edit and format, most likely every couple days.  
> I love both Tony and Steve and tried to be as fair as possible to both of them. Sometimes Tony comes off as harsh or cold from Steve's perspective but inside his head he's equally invested in everything going on. Maybe even more so.  
> I actually came out of Civil War very heavily team Iron Man so it was interesting to try to understand Steve's side.  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Co are back in the US, Steve is sad. :(

### 

Sam put a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him into a seat at the table. Natasha sat down on his other side, as moral support. The other groups filed in, and they started the meeting at 9 o’clock on the dot. Carol ran a tight ship. They started the meeting by sharing what information they had, and Steve didn’t have much to contribute. Tony had always been the one looking ahead to nip future problems in the bud. Steve had enough on his plate keeping the day to day operations running smoothly. That was part of why they made such a great team. People yammered on and Steve forced himself to remain focused. What was discussed today would affect all of their plans going forward. 

They broke for the day, and after everyone else filed out of the room, Steve remained. And wasn’t that how it always went? His pa, his ma, Bucky, Peggy, the Commandos, Tony. One by one they left, and Steve remained. He rested his head on the table, looking at the empty chair where Tony had sat. There was a stripe of red color on it and Steve got up to investigate. Tony had forgotten his coat. Tony had a terrible memory, he had to set himself reminders for everything from birthdays to meetings to doing laundry. Steve was pretty sure that four people knew Tony’s social security number and not one of those people was Tony. It was no surprise he had forgotten his coat. The right thing to do would be to return it to him, but Tony was already gone. He would be back for the rest of the meetings later, and Steve would hold onto it until then. He brought the paperwork back to the room he was staying in. He dumped the papers on the small dresser and laid the coat out on the bed. There was a knock at the door and Sam poked his head inside. 

“You ready to eat?” 

“Yeah. Just putting away some papers. Let’s go.” 

He followed Sam down the hall, where they met Natasha in the mess. 

“So things with Tony could have been worse,” she said as they sat down beside her. Steve glared at her. 

“How?” 

“You had to have been expecting something like this.” 

He had been expecting this. He had thought of this, and a hundred other ways it could go. You don’t get the title of ‘master tactician’ by being surprised by a likely outcome occurring. Yet this was Tony, who offered a helping hand to the man who tried to kill him seconds before, who didn’t kill the man who held him hostage and tortured him, who offered first, second, third chances to people who never asked for forgiveness. Steve had been convinced (still was convinced) that there was still something left of their relationship worth saving. Tony clearly didn’t feel that way, and even expecting that as a possible outcome hadn't dampened the blow. 

Natasha snapped her gum and grinned. “He could have thrown something. Or shot you. This is Tony we’re talking about.” 

“Tony wouldn’t do that,” he insisted with a scowl. 

Steve was intimately familiar with how far Tony would go when pushed to the limit, and it had never involved causing him permanent harm. He wished he could say the same for himself in regards for Tony, a vision of Tony lying pale and bleeding on the ground flashing through his mind. He looked across the tables to where he was laughing with Rhodes. He looked ok. His cheeks weren’t hollowed out so clearly someone was making sure he got fed. He was breathing and walking easily and though his left arm seemed to have a tremble, he didn’t seem to be having any problems with its strength or dexterity. He looked....fine. He looked happy. Steve looked down at his own hands, curling them to hide where he had bitten his fingers bloody, remembering how his hands had shook as he had shaved off months of hair that morning. He was happy that Tony was fine without him. It was good. He wanted Tony to be happy. He pushed his chair back from the table. 

“Steve-” 

“I forgot something, I’ll be right back.” 

His friends gave him a concerned look but didn’t stop him as he left the dining hall and went back to his assigned room, his steps just slow enough that no one could accuse him of running. He shut the door and slid down the wall to the floor. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Tony wasn’t supposed to be fine. Steve had spent so many years taking care of Tony, making sure he went to bed at a reasonable time by physically hauling him upstairs, making sure he ate by bringing food down to the lab, and a million other small things like reminding him to not forget his coat. Steve had always felt that Tony lived life so carelessly, and Steve was doing a great service helping him because otherwise he would fall apart. 

Now it turned out that Steve needed to take care of Tony much more than Tony needed to be taken care of. 

Sometimes the world was so large, and so complicated. It used to be that there were the good guys and the bad guys, and Steve’s path was clear. Nothing was simple anymore. Both sides had dark sides, and good people. Shield would send him out on missions claiming that it was for the greater good, and Steve would come home with his hands bloody and his conscience heavy. Then what he thought was the good side had ended up being Hydra. Tony had always been his one good thing. He didn’t have to think hard to know that taking care of Tony was good and right. 

Except maybe it wasn’t. 

His version of taking care of Tony had left him hurt and alone in the cold Siberian winter, and the team shattered. 

He stared at the bed, where the coat hung over the side. Here he was again, still trying to take care of Tony, when Tony hadn’t asked him to, and probably didn’t want his help. They would return to the meeting room tomorrow, and Tony would get his coat back, probably having never realized that it was missing. And even if it was lost forever, Tony had tons of coats and plenty of money to buy more. Steve had taken it because he wanted to give it back, not because Tony needed him to. 

He pulled the coat off the bed and buried his face in it. It was soft, like everything Tony owned, and it smelled like Tony. It reminded him of when Tony would come home after a day of meetings and throw himself at Steve who was drawing on the couch with a dramatic sigh and a long rambling story of what those idiots on the board were up to now, and Steve would rest his head on Tony’s shoulder and breathe in the smell of fabric and cologne and metal. He would rub Tony’s back until he yelled out all of the manic energy he generated from sitting still all day. Once he was done the tension in his shoulders would relax and he would run a hand through Steve’s hair and ask him what he did that day, 'had he done Captain America things, had he made his country proud?' 

And Steve would make something stupidly anti-patriotic up. 

“I threw away an apple pie and insulted George Washington.” 

“I burned down Yankee stadium then pushed an old lady into traffic.” 

“I taught boy scouts how to cuss and stomped on a flag.” 

It made Tony laugh, every time. Even at the end, when things were bad, and they were sleeping apart and barely talking, Tony would still come to him sometimes and they would sit on the couch a careful distance apart, and Tony would ask him what he did and Steve would make things up until Tony smiled. 

Steve hugged the coat to his chest. Was this pathetic? This was probably pathetic. Someone knocked on the door. Was ten minutes alone so much to ask for? Between Natasha the spy and Sam the counselor they never left him be. He stood up and yanked open the door. 

“I don’t want to talk about it!” 

Tony frowned at him. “Alright, fine. I’ll come back later.” He looked down. “Wait, is that my coat?” 

Steve hid it behind his back on instinct then realized that that was probably the most guilty thing that he could have done. He had a reason for having it and Tony would never have known he was hugging it a few seconds before. 

Tony rubbed his forehead. “Jesus, Steve.” 

“It’s not like that,” he said defensively. “You left it in the conference room, I wasn’t stealing it to spite you or to keep as a stalker memento or something. Here, take it back.” 

He held it out and Tony took it with a suspicious look. “I wasn’t here to ask about the coat. I wanted to talk about what we needed to do to get our relationship to a point where it won’t affect the rest of the team.” 

Steve nodded and stepped back, gesturing Tony inside. It was a small room, with no furniture beyond a bed and dresser, so Tony sat on the bed and Steve joined him after closing the door. Tony half stood and sat down farther away, clearing his throat. Steve clasped his hands between his knees. Tony didn’t want to be close? That was fine. Not like they lived and slept together for four years or anything. 

“So, you want to talk about Siberia? The airport? All of it?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me about my parents?” 

Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” 

Tony stood up and started pacing. Apparently the other side of the bed was still too close. “I don’t care that you’re sorry, I want to know why.” 

“I’m not going to make excuses. I shouldn’t have-” 

“Yes, you shouldn’t have, so I want to know why you did.” 

Steve stood up and back Tony into the corner, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Don’t interrupt me. You never let me talk-” 

“So it’s my fault because I don’t let your talk?” Tony challenged him, eyes flashing. 

“It’s not your fault, you were always so selfish, even with guilt-” 

“Don’t you talk to me about guilt when you-” 

“Quit interrupting me! Or else I’ll-” 

“Or else what? What will you do?” 

Steve took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

He sat back down on the bed, his head hanging low. He felt the bed dip as Tony sat down too. The tension in the room simmered down into dull resentment. 

“I don’t want to fight you, Tony. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.” 

“We’ve been fighting since the second we met. Half of our relationship has been built on fighting. It’s what we do, and now you’re trying to take the moral high ground?” 

“This isn’t a morality crusade. You ever think things fell apart between us because all we do is fight?” 

Tony shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. Steve decided to lay out all of his cards on the table. He turned and cupped Tony’s face, locking their eyes together. “Look. You might not want it, but I still love you.” 

Tony’s eyes widened then he looked down and when he made eye contact again his face was shut off. “What about when you ignored me on the base? When you picked Bucky over me? When we hit each other in the airport? When you ripped off my helmet with your bare hands and drove your shield into my chest? When you left me in Siberia with no way home?” 

“I never stopped loving you.” Steve insisted. 

Tony knocked his hand away and stood. “If that’s your version of love, then I want nothing to do with it, or you.” 

“I’ll still love you.” 

“I regret ever loving you.” 

“Ok.” Steve choked out. 

“Ok? You’re not going to fight?” Tony asked incredulously. 

“It’s your decision. I’ll see you tomorrow at the next meeting.” 

“Fine!” Tony spun and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Steve laid down on the bed, eyes staring vacantly at the door. 

This was...fine. It was fine. Sure it felt like his heart been ripped out now, but he would get over it, like he got over everything. They had already broken up, it’s not like this was news. Steve stared at the ceiling and tried to convince himself that it didn’t hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

### 

  


He was sleeping, he knew he was sleeping, as his feet carried him down the hall, every step carrying the weight on inevitability. Steve met Tony in the conference room. They were the only ones there, and Tony looked up when Steve entered. 

“Did you know?” Tony asked, suiting up in full armor, his voice void of any emotion, edging into robotic as the mask dropped over his face. 

“I didn’t know it was him.” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. _Did you know?”_ Tony asked, coming closer, the eyes of the suit glowing unnatural blue. Steve closed his eyes. 

“Yes.” 

Tony knocked him to the floor, and Steve didn’t resist. 

“You lied to me.” 

“I know.” 

“You betrayed my trust.” 

“I know.” 

The armor held out a hand and Steve heard the familiar sound of a repulsor charging. Steve closed his eyes. The shot fired, and Steve flinched. 

He was ok, nothing hurt. He opened his eyes. Standing in the doorway was Bucky, the whole of his chest burned away. Bucky slumped to the floor and Steve swiped out a foot, knocking the armor to the floor. He started pounding on it furiously. 

“It wasn’t his fault!” 

His hands were bleeding and nothing was breaking through the thick shell of the armor. Cold wind blew at his back. Below him the armor laughed, the sound distorted through the speakers into a growling screech of static. 

“Then whose fault was it?” 

He reached around desperately for anything to help. His hands scrambled around the concrete floor until they found a familiar cool edge of metal. He picked up his shield and smashed it into the face of the armor. The armor’s head jerked sideways, denting open. A brown eye stared at him through the crack, wide with pain and fear. Tony’s voice broke through Steve’s frenzy. 

“It was my fault?” He whispered. Blood dripped out of the crack, and the eye closed. Steve breathed in heaving gasps, his breathes crystallizing into fog. 

“No, Tony, no. No, no, no.” 

He ripped the mask off, but it wasn’t Tony’s face staring up at him. It was his own, half his face covered by the familiar cowl. 

“Do you know who’s fault it was? Why the team is split up? Why Bucky isn’t here? Why Tony hates you?” 

Steve slammed his shield down into the armor’s chest. Captain America laughed. 

“Tell me Steve, whatever happened to the perfect soldier? Disobeying orders, breaking laws, abandoning friends.You’re supposed to be a symbol for everything good and right in the world. Children have admired you for generations. Coulson held your trading cards. Tony looked up to you. You kept it secret that you found his box of old Cap comics, but what are secrets between you and me? Secrets between you and Tony on the other hand...Lots of lying going on for a national icon. Tsk tsk.” 

Steve slammed the shield down again and again. 

“I never wanted to be a symbol, I wanted to do the right thing! I wanted to help my friends and protect my country, I didn’t sign up for the future and aliens and all this, I don’t want it!” 

The man snarled. “Captain America is supposed to have everything under control! Know exactly what to say and do! _Captain America is supposed to be perfect!”_

Steve slammed the shield down over and over again, harder and harder, the clang of metal on metal echoing around the room, a constant pulse speeding up with his heart beat. The Captain spread out his arms, making not attempt to defend himself. Steve raised the shield above his head, and drove it down as hard as he could into the star in the center of his chest, and the room exploded with white light. Steve threw up an arm over his eyes, and bitter wind whipped around the room, pelting him with snow. He lowered his arm and looked down at the body beneath him. It was Tony, his eyes glazed over and blood dripping from his mouth. 

“No. NO!” Steve yelled. He patted Tony’s face. “Tony, come on, wake up, it’s ok, I didn’t mean to, Sweetheart, Tony-” 

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder and he turned. The Captain was standing beside him, frowning. “He was too unruly to make a good asset anyway. Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?” 

Steve pushed his hand off and stumbled to his feet, glaring up at his uniformed self. “Why won’t you _die?”_ he snarled. 

The man bent down and ruffled a hand through Steve’s hair patronizingly. “A shadow cannot kill that which casts it.” 

Steve looked down at sparrow boned wrists and struggled to breathe in the cold air as his lungs closed up with asthma. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping. The Captain grabbed him by the throat and forced his head up. “The world has no use for Steve Rogers. A threat is coming, and the team needs a captain. It’s time to get to work.” Steve felt his vision grow dark around the edges then go black.  
  
  
  
  
  


He jolted upright in bed, gasping. He stumbled across the room and tripped over something, falling into the wall with a bang. He smacked it until he found the light switch and flipped the lights on. He slid to the floor, still struggling to breathe. There was a red pile on the floor. Tony had forgotten his coat again, and he had tripped on it. He dragged the coat over and buried his face in it. 

This wasn’t the first time he had had a nightmare about Siberia, but they had been starting to taper off. Seeing Tony had brought it all back. He breathed deeply into the coat. Tony was fine, he had seen him a few hours ago and he had been fine. More fine than Steve. 

Though he knew that intellectually, it wasn’t good enough. And for the first time, Tony was close enough that he could go look and make sure. He opened the door and stuck his head out. It was late and the hallway was empty. He walked a few steps then paused. He didn’t know where Tony was. He had to be close. Carol had confirmed during the meeting that they were all staying in the same building for security reasons. Natasha would know, she never slept until she had the whole building scoped out. He knocked on her door and she opened it with a scowl a few seconds later, her hair in total disarray. 

“What’s the emergency?” 

Steve glanced down at his wrist. Four AM. He winced. 

“Where is Tony’s room?” 

“Seriously?” 

“It’s important?” 

“It better be. You know Tony isn’t going to react well to being woken up, so if you’re planning a little ‘heart to heart’ then it would be better if you did it at any other time. Go down the left hallway, third door. Don’t wake me up again unless the world is ending.” 

“Thanks Nat.” 

She slammed the door shut. Steve made his way down the hallway and hesitated in front of the door. He raised his hand to knock, then lowered it. Maybe Natasha was right, and he should leave Tony alone until the morning. He was probably fine. Probably. Steve shivered. What if he wasn’t fine? Maybe he could listen at the door, and if he heard Tony breathing then that would mean he was okay and Steve could go back to sleep. He put his ear to the door and listened. He couldn’t hear anything. He had amazing hearing, and he couldn’t hear anything, was something wrong? Something was wrong. He tried the doorknob, and it was locked. Not a problem for him. He forced it easily, still riding high on the adrenaline from the nightmare, and stepped into the room. 

“Move and I shoot you.” Tony growled, his eyes too sharp to have been sleeping, his hand encased in a gauntlet. 

“It’s just me.” 

“You’re still a threat,” Tony said, but lowered his hand and refolded the gauntlet into a thick watch band. He flopped back down onto his bed with a sigh. 

“Please don’t tell me you broke into my room at some ungodly hour to return my coat.” Steve looked down and realized that he was still holding the red jacket. He tossed it on a chair and pushed the door shut. He sat on the ground next to the bed. He debated agreeing about the coat, then changed his mind, remembering his dream self’s leering face. Liar, liar. 

“It’s not the coat. I had a nightmare and wanted to make sure that you were still here and still ok.” 

Tony buried his face in his pillow. “You’re being disgustingly honest for this early in the morning.” 

“I’m trying to be more open with you. It’s not easy.” 

“Well, I’m ok.” 

“Oh. Yeah. That’s good.” Steve said awkwardly. Now that he knew Tony was safe, he should go. He stood and Tony grabbed his wrist. 

“Are you ok?” 

Steve hesitated. “Yeah.” 

“What happened to being honest?” 

“Tony-” 

“It’s alright.” Tony slide his hand down from holding Steve’s wrist to holding his hand. He tugged him closer, until his knees hit the bed. “Lay down.” 

“Aren’t you mad at me?” 

“I’m too tired to be mad, I’ll be mad tomorrow. Lay down.” 

Steve climbed into the bed and tucked his arms up tightly to his chest. Tony pulled the blankets up over them. 

“You’ll get hot.” Steve mumbled. 

“You’re shivering,” Tony countered. 

“I can ignore it.” 

“I know. Maybe I don’t want you to have to. I can stand to be a little hot. Come here.” 

Tony pulled Steve’s hand away from his chest and looped it over his back. He reached his own arm around Steve’s back and rubbed his shoulders gently while Steve held the fabric of Tony’s shirt tightly in his fist, to keep him from going anywhere and ruining the moment. 

“I love you.” 

Tony’s hand paused momentarily before returning to rubbing. “I know. That’s what makes this so hard.” 

“I don’t see what would be hard about it. I’m not asking you to return it.” 

Tony sighed. “I’ve had too many people love me in a way I didn’t want to be loved. My father loved me as an extension of his legacy. Obadiah loved me as a means to make him rich. Hammer would tell anyone who asked that he loved me, then turned around and hired a man to kill me. Killian loved me like a fan loved a movie star until he blew up my house. Christine loved me as a piece of news, Maya loved me as a solution to her problems. I blew up all my Iron Man suits, I tried to destroy what I considered the best parts of myself, because Pepper loved me. I almost died in Siberia because you loved me. I’m tired, Steve.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are. And I’m sorry too, because I didn’t love you like you deserved to be loved either.” Tony closed his eyes and his hand stilled. “I’m going to sleep. Any more talking can happen tomorrow.” 

Steve nodded. He closed his eyes but he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to sleep, not when nightmares were waiting for him, and Tony was here. Despite Natasha’s warnings about pissing Tony off, this was the most receptive he’d been to Steve so far. Something about being awake it four in the morning made all of the complications of the world fall away, until it was just the two of them left with the bare essentials. 

Time passed and Steve dozed, not asleep, but resting. Tony shifted rolled over in his sleep and Steve pulled him close and wrapped an arm around his chest. He felt something cold and hard and he stiffened. He carefully felt around Tony’s chest, his fingers following a diamond shaped outline of metal resting under the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Tony had the arc reactor back. 

He had never had it for as long as they had been together, having gotten it removed shortly before he and Pepper broke up. Once he had started sleeping with Steve, he had kept his shirt on for the first six months of their relationship. When he finally let Steve see, he understood why Tony tried to hide it. Shrapnel scars dotted his torso from hip to the base of this throat, then his chest was a mess of gnarled snaking lines. He had had his first surgery in a cave, and it hadn’t been pretty. Then a second one three months later at a air force base, to clear out infections, reset and sterilize the metal casing, and to saw off part of a rib bone that was rubbing against the reactor. His final surgery had been to remove it completely, extremis helping to fill in the missing muscle and bone. It let Tony breathe normally and bend and stretch without hurting himself. He remembered Tony always tapping and pressing a hand to the glowing circle on his chest when he first met him, and hadn’t considered how much it would have hurt, all of the time, until he was staring at the delicate mess of scars and missing tissue that was Tony’s chest and hearing him explain how much _better_ things were this way. 

Now Tony had the reactor back. 

The last time Steve had seen him, he had been slamming his shield into his chest, and Tony had a reactor again. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. 

Tony made a confused noise that turned into a growl and he pushed Steve’s hand away. 

“I’ve told you a hundred times that I don’t like it when you touch my chest.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m really sick of hearing you say that.” 

“I was talking about touching-” 

“-Were you?” 

Steve was silent. Tony kept his head facing away. When he spoke, his voice was level. 

“We are where we are because we both made bad decisions.” 

“I wanted to protect you.” Steve said desperately. 

“I don’t want anything to do with your warped ideas of protection.” 

Underneath the literal meaning the real meaning was clear - _I don’t want anything to do with you._

Steve rolled out of the bed and walked to the door. The door knob came off in his hand, broken from when he had forced it earlier. Another thing he had broken. He walked out and pushed the door shut, and it stayed mostly shut. He walked back down the hallways to get back to his room, where Sam was standing. 

“There you are. I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a run, but it looks like you already got your morning exercise in.” 

“What?” 

“You’re coming back from the hallway where the accords half of the team is staying at six in the morning in your sleep clothes. I’ll tell you right now, it might feel good in the short term but sex with an ex is never a good idea.” 

“We were talking.” 

“All you two do is scream at each other and the whole building would have heard that. We heard you two yelling in your room yesterday.” 

Steve felt his face heat up. That was embarrassing. He decided to drop it, Sam would think what he wanted and Steve denying it would only reinforce the idea that he was hiding something. He went into his room and came out in running shorts and shoes. They went outside and the guard at the gate refused to let them outside the fence for security reasons. Steve would talk to Carol about it later. For now he and Sam ran in circles, round and round, trapped inside the fence. Steve finished the run feeling more antsy and unsettled than when he started. They went back inside and ran into Tony in the hallway. Steve felt like a mess in his sweaty t-shirt and beaten up shoes, while Tony was in a fitted suit and red sunglasses. Tony only wore sunglasses indoors when he was feeling vulnerable. His actions were as transparent as the thin layer of red glass covering his eyes. 

“Rogers.” 

Last names. Another way to build distance. 

“Tony.” 

Tony looked him up and down scornfully. “Running, huh? You’re good at that, aren’t you?” 

It wasn’t a question. Steve felt anger bubble up. “I’m also good at leaving from where I’m not wanted. If you’ll excuse us?” 

Tony stepped out of the way and Steve felt his eyes boring into his back as he walked down the hall. Sam followed behind him. 

“Could have gone worse.” 

“Why do you and Natasha keep saying that? It went awful. Every interaction I’ve had with him so far has been ten steps backwards from where I want to go.” 

“As long as there’s no violence or screaming it’s ok. The bar for you two is at rock bottom right now. ” 

He stopped in front of his door. “I’ll see you at the meeting in thirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Things still aren't going great for the boys but I promise things will get better! (Eventually.....)


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone met back up in the conference room, Steve and Sam slipping in to take a seat next to Natasha. 

Carol push a thick stack of documents forward on the table. “I’d like to start by saying that this document isn’t the accords. It isn’t even a version of the accords. All it says is that if there is a extraterrestrial threat, then the rogue Avengers are free to operate in any capacity deemed necessary until the threat is resolved, without threat of prosecution. After that, all bets are off and you’ll have to sign the accords or face jail time. Let’s face it, we don’t have time to talk politics, so this is the fastest way to make sure you all are free to do what needs to be done when the time comes. Will you sign?” 

Steve glanced around his team to judge their reactions. None of them seemed happy, most likely hoping for full absolution for facing the coming threat, but it looked like they would be willing to settle for this for the time being. Steve was going to fight in the upcoming battle even if the UN sent their entire security force after them. Still, things would be significantly easier if they didn’t have to worry about staying on the run and could reunite the teams. Steve nodded decisively. 

“Those terms are acceptable, though I can only speak for myself.” 

He pulled the papers across the table and signed. The rest of his team was quick to follow with no argument. The faith they had in him and his decisions was both humbling and disturbing. Steve returned the papers to Carol who tapped them neatly on the table and set them aside. “Now that that is settled, I would like to propose a daily training program to integrate the team fully and to plan out tactical maneuvers.” 

Her motion passed easily enough, not a single person objecting. Carol turned to Tony. 

“Would you be willing to host us at the Avengers compound?” 

“It’s already set up, and I arranged for a ride. Shall we?” 

Everyone returned to their rooms to grab their things, and met Tony outside where he lead them to the airstrip where a new quinjet sat. They boarded and the jet lifted off without anyone touching the controls. Steve tilted his head curiously and Tony explained. 

“Friday got her driver’s license. She’s not 16, so don’t tell the government,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I had to build a new jet since a certain someone stole the old one, so I decided to add a few upgrades and make a couple of them while I was at it.” 

“It’s not gone, it's in Wakanda right now. They were kind enough to give us a ride here.” 

“More likely they didn’t want the US government to know that you were coming from their country after they signed the accords, and only trusted Wakandan stealth tec to make sure you weren’t tracked.” 

“A little of this, a little of that.” 

That got a smile out of Tony before he schooled his face back into indifference and Steve internally cheered. He went to the back of the jet and sat down next to Sam before either of them ruined it by saying something else. Sam punched his knee. 

“There you go! No yelling.” 

“No yelling.” Steve agreed happily. 

After a hour of smooth travel the quinjet landed with a gentle thump. They gathered up their things and walked out the exit and down the ramp, the compound coming into sight. 

Their return was bitter sweet. The compound was the only home Steve had had in the twenty first century and he had missed its familiar comforts. He wanted to step inside the doors, and have everything go back to the way things used to be, when he could always find Bruce in the kitchen and Clint and Nat competing down at the range and Tony in the lab where he would always greet Steve with a smile and a kiss. 

Coming back now, a few months later, it hurt to see that time had gone on without him. There were little things that were different. Tony had added the Avengers symbol to the lobby, the conference room had the chairs rearranged for a press conference instead of for team meetings. The plant by the front desk had died and there was a plastic one in its place. Steve knew he was the only one who watered it. 

There were big changes too. The walls were blue instead of white, and there were more windows. It looked like Tony finally figured out a bulletproof clear polymer, to let in some nice natural light instead of having pure concrete. The spider kid had a room now, and the gym had an attached obstacle course. Security was tighter; cameras watched from every corner and doors closed with a hiss, making an air tight seal. Steve was sure Scott’s break in must have driven Tony nuts, trying to make security tight enough to catch an ant. 

Everyone went to their old rooms, and Tony showed Scott and Carol the empty room options and let them pick. Steve hovered behind them indecisively. He didn’t have a room. He had shared with Tony for the past four years, for as long as he had stayed at the compound, and there was no chance of them returning to that arrangement at the moment. After their break up Tony probably trashed his things. He would most likely be starting over, trying to build a space to call his own from scratch. Every time that happened it got harder to rebuild. After his ma died he hadn’t been able to afford rent, and the landlord had dumped all of his stuff outside. By time he got back it had been picked through by anyone walking down the street, and most of his things were gone or ruined with mud. 

When he woke up in the future he had to start over a second time. He didn’t have so much as a single chair. Hell, he didn’t even own a pair of shoes. It had taken him a long time to start collecting things again. He had lived entirely in Shield issue t-shirts and pants for a depressingly long time. It wasn’t until Tony and Natasha dragged him out that he got some decent clothes, and moving into the tower was the first time he owned his own furniture and had more than a small barracks style bed and a metal desk. He had just about cried when he saw the comfortable chair, a neat desk, and drawers to put his clothes in that Tony had picked out and put in the room for him. When the whole team shifted to the compound, he had moved in with Tony, along with all of the stuff he had started to build up. An easel, his sketchbooks, a plant, a photo of Brooklyn. Little things, that made it a home instead of a hotel. If Tony had decided he needed a fresh start after their fight then those things would have gone straight into the garbage and Steve would be starting from scratch for the third time. With Thanos coming any day, he wouldn’t have time to waste on something like decorating so he would have to deal with living like it was temporary. For all he knew it was temporary; after Thanos it was possible that he would have to go back on the run. That was a depressing thought. 

Once everyone was settled Tony turned to Steve. “I moved out of our room.” 

That was unexpected. That sounded too much like a retreat, from the man who always took challenges head on. 

“So you can use that room, or pick a new one if you want. I’m next to Rhodey now. Let Friday know if you need anything.” 

Steve nodded and noted which room Tony entered, so he wouldn’t have to pay Natasha any more 4AM visits. The door closed before he could see inside, and Steve felt his curiosity spark to life. He would have to make an excuse to see. 

The thing was, Tony was horribly sentimental. He worked on his dad’s old car and set a screen saver of it to his computer. They had had one of their biggest fights because Steve had thrown out Tony’s ratty old robe and it had turned out to have been his father's. JARVIS was named after Edwin Jarvis, the family butler. The piano sitting in the lobby was his mother’s, he had the same robot rolling around his lab that he had built when he was seventeen, and he still had the arc reactor plaque that Pepper had made him. He had always took their anniversaries very seriously, planning things a full month in advance because he felt commemorating their relationship was important. Of course, he got the dates wrong because Tony couldn’t keep track of a date to save his life. Steve still appreciated the effort. Getting a look at his room would give Steve a much better idea of where Tony was at. Tony never talked about his feelings, he just bleed them over everything he did, from building gear to keep the team safe to offering them a place to stay to coincidentally finding the exact set of paints that Steve had been wanting but couldn’t justify the expense. It would be a very Tony thing to do, to keep a old shirt of Steve’s in the back of his closet or to take a picture or two that he would keep face down on his desk. Or to have pictures of the team with the rogue Avengers cut out. No one ever said Tony wasn’t dramatic. 

For now he went back to the room they used to share, and the door opened with a woosh. It used to push open, now it was electric and sealed tightly. That was the only change he could see. Stepping into the room made him blink, because everything was the same. It looked like they had gone down for breakfast and now we're coming back up to finish getting ready for the day. The bed was neatly made; between Steve’s mom training as a nurse and his time in the army, and Tony’s long stint in boarding schools, neither of them could stand to leave it unmade. Mess manifested itself in other ways. Steve’s robe over the back of a desk chair. Tony’s slippers half sticking out from under the bed. Paperwork on the desk, a cup overfilled with pens because when someone offered him a free pen Steve took it, even as Tony whined and offered to buy him nice ones, pens that worked upside down and in space and were heat and waterproof. His desk plant was dead from lack of water. Above the desk was a cork board that Steve had filled with pictures of them and ticket stubs from events they had gone to. After four years the board was covered, with things overlapping and hanging off from the sides and bottom. He opened the closet and Tony’s clothes were gone, leaving it almost empty, with Steve’s stuff filling up barley an eighth of the space. He never got the need to have four black tuxedos when you could wash the one, or having suits of every cut, color, and style because fashion changed seemingly every week, but he also didn’t have to spend twenty hours a week in a suit, so what did he know. He looked in the bathroom and things looked undisturbed there too. Tony’s toothbrush was still in the cup so he must have given up on dealing with moving out at this point and bought new things. Steve went back out and took his shoes off and laid down on the bed. There was no dust in the room, though that could have been because the room was almost airtight at this point and not because Tony was coming back to clean. He tilted his head sideways to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was about noon, the team would most likely be gathering downstairs for lunch. He squinted at the nightstand. It looked wrong somehow. He sat up and pushed the picture frames around. There was a picture of them at Coney island, a picture of the team getting shawarma, a picture of Tony’s birthday….there should have been one more. There had been a black wood frame, with a picture of them on the couch. They hadn’t been doing anything special, they weren’t dressed up. They weren’t even looking at the camera, instead looking at each other with the kind of expression that made Clint make gagging noises at them for being sickeningly sweet. Natasha had taken the picture, and he had liked it so much he had had it printed and put it on the nightstand. Apparently it had been special to Tony too, because it was the only one that was missing. 

Steve got out of bed and reached for his shoes. He put one on and stopped. He was home now, he didn’t have to wear shoes. He wasn’t going to a public cafeteria, he was going down the hall to the kitchen, where the bottoms of the pans were all black from Tony’s attempts to cook and Natasha made sure all of their knives were razor sharp and the cups were plastic and the table was solid steel because Tony didn’t trust Thor not to break anything. He took the shoe back off and padded down the hall in socks, feeling weirdly vulnerable. Inside the kitchen Natasha and Clint were arguing over what to make and who should make it, Vision and Wanda were making eyes at each other from across the table, Rhodey and the spider kid were going over a stack of papers that looked suspiciously like math homework, and Tony was standing in his corner with the coffee machine watching over everyone with an indulgent smile. Steve leaned on the counter next to Tony, and it felt like everything clicked back into place. 

“Should we intervene?” Steve asked, watching Natasha put Clint in a head lock. Tony took a sip of his coffee. 

“They’re arguing over who has to cook. I ordered pizza while they were fighting, they’ll stop as soon as it gets here. Room ok?” 

Not your room, not our old room, just room, Steve noted with interest. Tony was trying so hard to be neutral. 

“The room is fine.” 

“That’s good.” 

Tony’s fingers tapped absentmindedly on the sides of his mug. He bled nervous energy at the best of times, and Steve was sure that wasn’t his first cup. Caffeine made Tony chatty so he decided to risk a pointed question. 

“There’s a picture missing, from the night stand. The one where we’re looking at each other.” He said casually. Or as casually as he could fake. Tony looked down and swirled his coffee. 

“Hmmm. I wouldn’t know. Pictures were always your thing.” 

“Sure.” Steve agreed amiably. There was no doubt in his mind now that Tony had taken it. Neither of them were any good at lying to each other. 

The pizza arrived and the team settled at the table, new chairs being pulled up to fit more people as Scott and Sam and Carol joined everyone. Steve took his normal spot next to Tony and Tony rolled with it. Rhodey and Sam were debating whether pineapple belongs on pizza, Vision had a piece on his plate to be a good sport despite not having to eat, and Natasha was eating it with a fork because she was Russian and enjoyed how angry that made the rest of them for no rational reason. Things really were exactly like they used to be, plus a few new faces. Tony was even eating, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to eat anything besides his green shakes and the occasional cheeseburger. He claimed that he snacked and that was good enough, though a few handfuls of dried blueberries weren’t enough to make up for skipping meals in Steve’s opinion. 

He dug in himself, enjoying the taste of good New York style pizza. Wakanda claimed to be the most advanced country in the world, but could they really be that advanced if they hadn't figured out how to top crust with tomato sauce, cheese, and two tablespoons of good old fashioned grease? Everything they had over there seemed to involve a lot of vegetables and not much else. Steve physically couldn’t die of heart disease, it would be a shame not to take advantage of that. 

Their meal was interrupted by the Avengers’ alert. Steve's instincts kicked in and he was on his feet in less than a second. Friday started rattling off the details. 

“Reports of Chitari based weaponry in Des Moines being used for a possible hostile takeover. Several hundred possible threats. Immediate Avengers presence is requested.” 

Tony stood as well. “Mission accepted, Avengers are incoming, ETA thirty minutes. Team, suit up.” 

Steve stepped forward and Tony put a hand on his chest. “Not the Rogues. You’re not cleared to help with anything short of Thanos himself.” 

“Friday said Chitari tec,” Steve argued. 

“With human assailants. Have you met Carol? We’ll have more than enough fire power. Stay here, we’ll be back once this is taken care of.” 

Tony left the room, Vision, Rhodey, Carol, and the Spider kid hot on his heels. Steve needed to learn that kid’s name, since it looked like he was operating as a part time Avenger. 

Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “So we’re supposed to sit here on our asses and wait?” 

“Yup. Heaven forbid we break any of Tony’s precious rules,” Clint complained sourly. 

“We’re going.” Steve said firmly. 

Natasha remained seated at the table. “Tony won’t like that.” 

Clint turned on her. “So what, you’re his lap dog now? You do whatever Stark says?” 

“I’m not saying we should or shouldn’t go, but I am saying that if a certain someone-” She gave Steve a pointed look. “-is trying to patch things up with Tony, maybe he shouldn’t respond to Tony’s welcome by immediately ignoring everything he says.” 

He scowled. “I’d rather Tony be mad than dead. We’re going.” 

Natasha shrugged and got up, and everyone left to suit up. As Steve pulled on his uniform he realized that he hadn’t given anyone a choice to come or not. If they hadn’t wanted to, surely they would have spoken up? Maybe not. He worried about Scott, who had the most to lose and the largest amount of hero worship. Were they following the advice of their friend Steve who they knew through experience always tried his best? Or were they afraid the challenge the legendary Captain America, who always made the most perfectly correct choice and did the right thing? Things to reflect upon later, when the other half of the team wasn’t in danger. 

They met back up in the hanger bay, and immediately ran into a problem. 

Scott knocked on the outside of a jet, the sound echoing. “Does anyone have a key? Or know how to fly a jet? I’ve stolen a lot of things and somehow I’ve never stolen a jet before.” 

“We all used to have codes.” Steve said slowly. 

“And what are the chances that they still work?” 

The group all stared at the jet in silence. 

“Ah,” Scott said. “Really that low, huh?” 

“Tony changed the codes every month for security reasons, and that was before he had a reason to purposely lock us out. We’ve only been back a few hours, he hasn’t issued us new ones yet.” Sam explained. “I’ll try just in case; Falcon 1969 Charlie Epsilon.” 

The jet beeped. “Access denied.” 

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, we need to figure out some other way of getting there.” 

Natasha was looking at Steve. 

“What?” 

“Didn’t Tony give you an override? One that didn’t change?” 

Steve shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah, global override. Covered the jets, his suits, any lock or door in the compound. He would have disabled it the second we went rogue.” 

“I think you should try it.” 

Tony was sentimental, but would that really stretch to things like security codes? As far as Steve knew, all of Tony’s other passwords were random letters and numbers. He had worked on highly classified military defense projects for most of his life and the need for security had been engraved deep. 

Steve shook his head. “He disabled it. He wouldn’t have gone into a fight with me knowing how to shut down his suit with a few words.” 

“Tony didn’t go there to fight. What’s the harm in trying?” Natasha insisted. He sighed. 

“Steve Rogers Override Code 23-34-45.” 

“Access granted. Welcome aboard, Captain Handsome.” 

Steve's eyes widened as the door to the jet opened. The team piled on, Natasha clasping a hand to his shoulder as she passed. Sam settled in the driver's seat and Steve sat in the co pilot chair. Sam flipped the switches to start the take off sequence. Steve taped his fingers on the console, thinking. 

“Friday, can you give me the instatement date of that override code?” he asked. 

“Override established three years, two months, and two days ago.” 

“When was it unsuspended?” 

“Records show no suspension of override.” 

Steve sat back in the chair. He could have ended the fight in Siberia with a few words. Hell, he could have deescalate things at the airport by dismantling the suit and setting Tony aside by the scruff of his neck. 

Honestly, screw Tony for this. Either he trusted Steve the whole time and Tony never should have fought him at all, because if he was willing to let Steve shut down the suit he should have been willing to shut it down himself. Had he spent the whole fight at the airport waiting for Steve to shut him down? Then again, at Siberia? Waiting for Steve to make the first move towards deescalation? 

Or option two, Tony was being a sentimental idiot about his security codes. Not everyone was as nice as Steve and Tony was going to be in a world of pain if he had other cracks in his security like this. That was probably all this was. Tony being careless. The man who had never had a security breach in all the years Steve had known him, who reset the codes every month, who had Friday double checking everything. Maybe, for once, Tony forgot. He certainly forgot his jacket enough. 

Sam flew the jet to Des Moines and followed the sound of explosions. He landed the quinjet on the roof of a building and the team got out. Steve surveyed the situation from the roof. Three hundred people in matching uniforms were marching through the streets, all carrying heavy guns that were presumably enhanced with Chitari tec. There was heavy damage to all the nearby buildings; both Captain Marvel and the spider kid were struggling to keep a building from collapsing entirely as Vision phased people outside to safety. Rhodey was also working on evac, working with the police to clear out the buildings and streets and protecting the people as they passed the small militia of men with high tec guns. That just left Tony. Steve scanned the skies until he spotted him, dogging between buildings. He had a new suit, and the bottom half was grey which was interesting. He would have to ask about it later. For now, they had work to do. He started calling out orders. 

“Hawkeye, stay up here and start picking people off. Sam, recon and report. Wanda, get us down then the three of us will work our way down 49th, reconvene once this street is clear and we start on the next. “ 

He looked around the group to make sure everyone understood, then held himself still as Wanda swept them down to the street in a swirl of red. He landed gracefully on the ground and ran for the first enemy, arm raised back. The man was facing the other way and Steve was able to down him with a single punch, holding back enough not to kill him. He tried to avoid unnecessary casualties, and the man would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for the police to come in a collect people with cuffs. The man’s pained grunt as he went down alerted the men around him, and they spun to face Wanda, Natasha and Steve. Wanda took a few of them down in a sweep of red magic, and Natasha got another with a swing of her stun baton. Steve charged forward to the next group. They raised their guns and fired, the blue energy blast dissipating harmlessly against the shield Wanda threw up. She dropped it and Steve took out a man with a kick. Natasha was like a ghost, dodging between men, taking them down with barely a sound and not a single wasted movement. Wanda was also taken down swatches of the militia with every wave of her arms. There was a whistling sound and the man in front of Steve fell, an arrow embedded in his chest. 

“We got incoming,” Sam warned as he flew overhead. More men poured in from the connecting street. Three hundred might have been too conservative of an estimate. Captain Marvel was still stuck acting as the support beam of the collapsing building, and Steve could tell that it was frustrating her. Vision was working as fast as he could, but it was a large building and he could only carry so many people at once. Where was Tony? 

A man swung at Steve and he swung back, knocking him into another man and sending both of them tumbling. The next man shot at him, and Steve ducked out of the way, the edge of the shot singeing his hair and blowing a hole into the building behind him. Steve dodged as concrete rained down, a block knocking down the man with the gun. Four more quickly took his place, all firing on him. Steve rolled out of the way and the entire building behind him started to crumbled. Vision stepped in and braced up the front of the building as people ran out screaming. 

“Nat-” 

“On it.” She started dragging people from the rubble as Steve advanced on the next wave of men. He needed something to throw. He lobbed a couple pieces of concrete and it knocked the men down well enough. He wished he had his shield, or even a gun. There had been no weapons at the negotiations and they hadn’t been back long enough to get rearmed. They didn’t have comms either, so were communicating through yelling. That was fine when Natasha was right next to him, less so for Sam who was flying around somewhere above. Another shot barely missed him and hit a car which violently exploded, sending civilians screaming and covering as Natasha tried to usher them away while fighting off more men. The sound made his ears ring, and he barely missed being hit again. He threw a man into another man and punched the third. The fourth slammed the barrel of his gun into Steve’s back and he fell. As soon as he hit the ground he swept a leg out, knocking the man down before bouncing back to his feet and finishing him with a blow to the head. He fought his way forward, trying to keep the militia away from the innocents, and inadvertently separating himself from the rest of the team. Natasha tried to yell something at him over the noise of the battle. Even with his enhanced hearing, she wasn’t getting through. 

“What?” 

She waved at him frantically, trying to be heard over the growing beeping sound. Beeping? Both Steve and the nearby goon looked down at the chitauri gun in his hands, now beeping faster and faster. They looked back up and shared a brief second of panic before the weapon imploded with a huge bang and everything dissolved in a wave of heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please enjoy a cliff hanger 😈


	5. Chapter 5

There was a quiet ringing and Steve reached out a hand to turn off his alarm clock. His arm felt clumsy, and he couldn’t find his clock. Instead he stick his hand in a puddle. If Tony had left a half empty cup of water on the nightstand again he was going to be mad. He always knocked it over, then the carpet was going to be damp for the rest of the day. He blinked his eyes open. His hand was red. Blood. Oh, that was fine then. He closed his eyes and drifted. 

Someone was slapping his face. He cracked open eye open. It was Tony. 

“Steve? Steve, you need to wake up, Steve, please, baby please wake up, c’mon…” 

“That wasn’t the alarm, we can sleep more,” he tried to explain. Tony wasn’t getting it. 

“There you are, thank God. I need you to keep your eyes open for me, alight?” 

He wanted to make Tony happy more than he wanted to keep sleeping. He kept his eyes open. 

“Good job big guy, great, can you tell me what hurts? I can’t tell what’s you and what’s parts of the other guy.” 

Steve let his head loll to the side, where there was a smear of ash and blood on the concrete where the man had been standing. There were similar spots spread all the way down the street. Gross. 

“Steve? Hey, you with me? Baby?” 

Tony’s voice grew distant. “I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m flying him to the hospital…..no...I’ll deal with it later...yes...watch out for Peter...yeah…” 

Then Tony was scooping him up and the world seemed to blur into one big streak. He tapped on Tony’s golden mask. 

“Are we flying?” 

“I’m flying you to the hospital.” 

Steve didn’t like how Tony sounded when he was in the suit and he didn’t have a comm. The voice was too low to sound like Tony. He did like flying with Iron Man. It was like the world’s best roller coaster. He wished he could fly everywhere. 

“There weren’t as many flying cars in the future as I was promised,” he complained, resting his head of Iron Man’s dark red shoulder. That was the other problem with Iron Man, he was not nearly as soft to lay on as Tony. Steve could fall asleep on Tony, he was so soft and warm and safe. And Tony would complain that he made his arm fall asleep, but he never pushed Steve off. 

“Well, that’s what you get for listening to Howard. I’m landing, hold on tight.” 

Tony landed with a clank and walked them in. The staff ushered them in and Tony laid Steve down on a gurney. A nurse approached with a hose and turned on the water, staying down his legs to try to wash away some of the mess. Steve jerked away. PAIN COLD WET he was flying and then he was going dowN DOwn dOWn cold WET- 

“And then Peter says it’s a meme. Can you believe that? A meme. That boy.” 

The room jerked back into focus. He wasn’t on a plane, hadn’t been on a plane besides the quinjet in years. “Tony?” 

“The one and only. It’s April 26th, 2019. You’re at the hospital. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Hospital?” 

“There you go. So as I was saying, kids these days are too much for me. I feel like you. I can never make fun of your old man ways again.” 

“You’ll find something else to make fun of.” 

“Sure will.” Tony kept on rambling and Steve felt himself relax. Hospital, Tony was here, Tony would take care of it. Tony would take care of him. 

He had spent so many years trying to protect and care for Tony, maybe it was time to finally let down his shields enough to let Tony take care of him in return. 

He felt his heart speed up as the nurse got higher with the hose, and Tony grabbed his hand. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, finger combing out the dust and small pieces of gravel. Steve jerked as Tony touched a tender part. Tony immediately pulled his hand away. 

“Is that where you hit your head?” 

“I hit my head?” 

“Can you get him in for an xray?” Tony asked the doctor as he entered the room. He nodded. “Head and chest. Radiology is ready.” 

Things went blurry again for a while. Were they in a new room? Tony was still there and that was the important part. Tony had been gone for a while, and he had been so sad. 

“I was sad too.” 

Did he say that out loud? 

“You’re saying a lot of things out loud. I’m glad the rest of the team is in the waiting room. The doctor will be back in a minute, he said you’re going to be fine. You have a concussion that should be gone in a few hours, and you’re about to go into surgery to get the metal shards out of you. They don’t have any of the drugs Helen made that work on you, so we’re waiting for Sam to get back from the compound.” 

That was nice. And Sam was nice. And Tony was nicest of all. 

“Thank you. You’re very nice too.” 

He was not nice. He hadn’t signed Tony’s papers then they had a big fight. 

“Oh God, here we go again. It wasn’t your all your fault. I should have brought up the accords to you much earlier, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret attacking your friend. It had been a long day, Ross was threatening me, then I got one shock after another and I exploded. I’m sorry.” 

That was great because he was sorry too, so now they could be happy together again. They should get a puppy. 

Tony laughed and brushed a hand through Steve’s hair, careful to avoid the back of his head. “I don’t think it’s that simple.” 

Sam walked through the door. “I got the stuff. How’s he doing?” 

“Loopy. It’s time to go to sleep, honey.” 

“Will you be here?” 

“I’ll be here.” 

Steve nodded which made the room spin. It was pretty. He should try to paint it. He turned his head to tell Tony and time stretched like taffy. It was dark, the room was different, and now Tony was working on a tablet in a small chair to the side of the bed. Steve shifted and his side and chest flared with pain. He ignored it and pushed himself upright, propping himself up on the pillows. Tony caught his moment and hurried over the bed to help him. He forced the pillows into shape and Steve settled into a half sitting position. 

“How you feeling?” Tony asked, scanning his face for signs of strain. 

“I’ve been worse.” 

Tony gave him a look and Steve shut his eyes with a sigh. His head was pounding and his chest was on fire, Tony wouldn’t think any less of him for admitting pain. He was trying to be more honest with Tony, and trying to let Tony take care of him like he so clearly wanted to. 

“Maybe a five out of ten,” he admitted. 

Tony nodded and fiddled with the IV bag and Steve felt the pain dull. The drugs Helen made really were something. They reduced pain even for his insane metabolism, with minimal side effects besides some drowsiness. They also took three days to synthesize and had a half life of a week, so the fact that there was a bag ready at the compound meant Tony had been prepared to help Steve before any of the negotiations. 

Tony sat back down, and clasped his hands together, leaning forward. He had his “I fucked up” face on. 

“Look, Steve, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you were hurt. I didn’t know you guys were on the field and I said a warning I was detonating the guns through the comms, which you didn’t have because I haven't issued anyone comms, codes or weapons yet. I was too busy throwing a fucking pizza party, pretending we were a family instead of a defense unit.” 

“I liked the pizza party.” 

Tony rubbed his face. “Great. I’m glad a few slices of pizza were worth getting blown up over.” He threw out his arms in exasperation. “What were you thinking? You weren’t cleared to fight and I had to spend the last two hours on the phone trying to get the department of defense to agree not to arrest you! I told you to stay home!” 

Home, huh? It was nice to see he wasn’t the only one to see it that way. He shrugged the best he could with the bandages holding his chest immobile. 

“Let’s be honest, you knew I was going to come anyway. You would have done the same thing.” 

“That’s not the point.” 

“Sure, Tony. Can I have a soda from the vending machine?” 

“You can have water.” Tony got up and came back with a bottle of water, which he opened and handed to Steve. He took a drink and Tony sat back down with an annoyed huff. 

“You’re not getting this. You could have died, and I could have been the one to kill you. What if you had been a few feet closer? What if you had picked up a gun to use because I still have your shield?” 

“Could I have that back?” 

“No! Steve, are you even listening to me?” 

“Why don’t you run through it again, from the top.” 

Tony glared at him. “The Avengers, the real ones, not your gang of criminals, got to the scene thirty minutes after the alert. Rhodey and Peter worked to evacuate citizens while Carol, Vision and I took down as many men as we could. There were a lot of them, and I decided to take a closer look at one of the guns. It was pretty heavily based on Chitari tec, and as you know they were all connected to a hive system. Ergo, all of the guns were connected. Excellent for sharing power so that a single weapon never ran out, and could draw from the collective energy pool. Also excellent if you plan to overload every single gun at once by overfeeding one. I tied it into the city’s power grid and let the sparks fly. Then I get a call that you’re down. I fly over and you’re dead. I’ve been working for the past ten years to stop innocents from being killed with my bombs, then I go and blow up you. You!” 

“I’m not dead.” 

“That’s what it looked like. There was enough blood to fill lake Michigan and you had about twenty pieces of shrapnel the length of my thumb sticking out of you. Why the hell did you rip the star off? It was there for a reason, it’s extra material to keep you safe.” 

“Symbolism, Tony. Why is half your suit grey?” 

“There’s a difference between structural modifications and a paint job, dumbass!” 

“I dyed it black too.” 

“Jesus, Steve. You’re not getting it.” 

Steve looked over his shoulder to see Sam walk into the room with a wave. 

“I can’t lose you!” Tony yelled, standing up and knocking the chair back with a screech. Sam made a face and backed out the room. Steve didn’t blame him. He patted the side of the bed. “Come here.” 

Tony stared at him with wild eyes, his fist clenched tightly down at his sides. Steve patted the bed again. Tony sat on the edge and crossed his arms. Steve pushed some wrinkled out of the sheets with his hand, trying to figure out how to say this. 

“I’m not perfect. If I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it. I have to step in. Maybe you’re there, maybe you’re not. Maybe I go down when someone shoots me. Maybe I get taken out by rubble. It’s an honor to die fighting to protect people.” He looked up at Tony, hoping he would understand. He was shaking his head. 

“I don’t want you to be perfect, and I’m not asking you to stop fighting. I tried to retire for Pepper, and it was like cutting out all the most selfless and noble parts of myself. We’re fighters Steve, down to our bones.” 

Tony twisted himself in the bed so that their legs were lying parallel, and he was sitting up next to Steve. He rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder and Steve let his head rest against Tony’s. “I promise I’ll never ask you to stop putting yourself in danger, but it kills me when I’m the one who is helping to create the threat. This, Ultron, the Accords....” 

“You were brainwashed for part of Ultron, and after Clint and Loki we agreed brainwashing doesn’t count against anyone,” Steve interjected. Tony sighed. 

“The point is that the list goes on, all situations where I was trying to help and everything spiraled out of control. I never talk to you until it’s too late and all the chips are on the table. And when I don’t talk to you, you don’t talk to me.” 

“Your parents.” 

“Yeah.” Tony said quietly, an Steve felt guilt well up. Knowing Tony, he had probably spent hours in his BARF machine, running through scenarios, trying to figure out what he possibly could have done different, while on the other side of the globe Steve had been doing the same thing, lying in bed and thinking of scenario after scenario, long after it was too late. He wished he had told Tony everything the second he had found out, because at the end of the day, Tony wasn’t the one who should have done something different. Now all he could do was apologize and try to explain his reasoning. 

“I was trying to protect you. I didn’t know how to say it without hurting you, so I kept pushing it off and it ended up hurting you more. I messed up.” 

“I’m not always the most level headed person, but I wouldn’t have blown his arm off if I had heard from you, and not from watching a video as the finale of in an elaborate series of events set up by Zemo. By the way, he ever get that fixed?” 

“No. He didn’t trust himself with all the brainwashing and code words locked up inside his head. He’s in cryo for now.” 

“I might be able to fix that.” 

“His arm? That would be nice.” 

“Everything. I don’t know if either of us deserve forgiveness for everything that’s happened between us over the years, but holding on to the bitterness is only going to hurt both of us, and after being faced with the thought of losing you….. Please, let’s start over from the beginning, and do it right this time.” 

Tony rested his hand, palm up, on his Steve’s leg. He hesitated. 

“I can’t start over. I know you’re always looking forward, and that’s great. I’m not like that. I can’t toss away everything between us. Trying to ignore our past is going to lead us into repeating the same mistakes, and I can’t do something like Siberia to you again.” 

Tony blew out a breath and let his fingers curl shut. Steve took his hand and wove their fingers together. “Don’t do that. I’m saying yes. I’m saying you’ll do it your way, and I’ll do it my way, and we'll yell at each other until we figure out a way to meet in the middle.” 

“You couldn’t just agree with me for once in your life? You’re such a contrarian.” 

“I am. That’s why you love me.” 

They stared at each other for a beat and Steve wondered if he had pushed Tony slightly too far. 

“I do.” Tony tilted his head up and pressed their lips together. Steve cupped the side of Tony’s face and deepened the kiss, Tony responding eagerly. 

“Man, it’s never a good time with you two.” 

They broke apart to see Sam standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Do I need to leave again? The rest of the team is getting impatient.” 

“Again?” Tony asked. 

“We’re good.” Steve insisted. Everything was finally good. 

The rest of the team came into the room, clustering around the bed, asking how he was. He assured them all he was fine. Natasha glanced down at where he was still holding Tony’s hand and gave him a small smile. He smiled back, and gave Tony a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve was released from the hospital the next day, and Tony wheeled him outside and helped him into a chair inside the jet, where he settled with a groan. If he was normal he would have been there another few days at least. His fast healing and the risk of someone coming after him while he was down made the move back to the compound the smartest choice. Tony returned the wheelchair to the nurse and buckled himself in beside Steve. 

“You ready to go home?” 

“More than ready.” 

In the cockpit, Sam was flipping switches to start the takeoff sequence. They were soon on their way, and back to the compound in less than forty minutes. Tony and Natasha each took an arm and helped inside to the couch in the living room, Steve walking mostly under his own power. He clutched a hand to his chest, the strain of moving pulling at the stitches uncomfortably. Tony fretted. 

“You ok?” 

“Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.” 

Tony nodded and sat beside him, flipping on the TV. Steve let his eyes unfocus and the sounds wash over him, enjoying a chance to sit with Tony. Nothing else he needed to be doing, nothing they still needed to talk about. Just….contentment. Tony safe and sound beside him, tucked away in their home, with the rest of the team laughing and messing around in the kitchen. Peter brought out a bowl of popcorn for them and they both thanked him. Steve watched him light up and bounce back to the others. 

“You have a kid now?” 

“I caught him swinging around Queens in a old hoodie with no combat training and took him on as a intern.” 

“What do his parents think of him going out to fight crime?” 

“They’re gone. He has an aunt and he says she’s supportive of it, as long as it doesn’t affect his school work or get him into any situation he can’t get out of. I made him a kevlar version of his spider suit and put something in there to alert me if he’s in trouble so he’s safer now than he was before.” 

“He’d be safer still if he stayed home.” 

“Interesting advice, coming from the man who tried to enlist in the army ten times back when he could have been blown away by a stiff breeze.” 

Steve shrugged, and Tony continued. “He was going to fight no matter what. If I tried to ban him he’d keep doing it anyway, without protective gear or Friday on speed dial. Also this way he gets paid and gets internship experience. Colleges love that sort of thing.” 

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “You know, I drew pictures of fruit and naked women to get into college.” 

“You went to art school. And you dropped out, so you are a terrible example for Peter.” 

“I was a Captain in the army, that’s a very respectable career.” 

“Not the way you did it. And now you’re a war criminal.” 

“Yeah, that’s been inconvenient.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “He calls being a internationally wanted fugitive ‘inconvenient’. What would tip the scales far enough for you to consider something to be awful?” 

“Losing you again.” 

Tony blinked up at him. “Yeah?” 

Steve leaned over and kissed him. He had intended for it to be quick. Instead he found it lingering, Tony pressing forward every time he pulled back. Steve gave in to enjoying it, curling a hand through Tony’s hair and letting Tony take the lead. He put his other hand on Tony’s back, his fingers rucking up his shirt to find warm skin. They finally broke apart, and Tony kept a hand on Steve’s face, his thumb gently rubbing his cheek. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

Steve closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I missed you too.” 

“I didn’t miss you, I’m excited to throw away that abomination of a flip phone.” 

“Sure, Tony.” 

“That’s my only reason,” he insisted. 

“Of course. Remind me, where is that picture of us from my nightstand? Is it face down on your dresser, or is it wrapped in one of my shirts in your closet?” 

Tony frowned at him. “What? I’m not that dramatic.” 

“Oh yes you are. Where is it?” 

Tony squirmed under Steve’s steady look. “It’s in a drawer of my desk in the lab,” he finally admitted. Steve smiled and gave him a brief kiss. 

“There we go.” 

There was a banging from the kitchen and Tony looked over the back of the couch. 

“I better go make sure they don’t set anything on fire.” 

Steve nodded despite the fact that Tony usually started more fires than he put out, and Tony got up to help. Natasha quickly settled into his space, and Sam beside her. 

“So?” She asked eagerly. Steve crossed his arm and leaned back into the sofa. 

“I’m starting to think that you two are more invested in my relationship with Tony than I am.” 

“Spill, or else I’ll go ask Tony. And you know he overshares.” Natasha threatened. Steve was unimpressed. 

“Tony is an expert at talking a lot and sharing absolutely nothing. I think I’m safe.” 

“Steve-” 

“Yeah, yeah. Things are good. Things are really good.” 

Natasha smiled. “He let you off light because he feels bad you’re hurt. Still though, that’s good to hear.” 

“So now it’s time to set you up.” 

Natasha yelled “No!” at the same time as Sam yelled “Oh hell yeah!” 

“Do you like Carol? Or what about the wizard guy? Stephan?” Steve suggested. 

“I’m not dating anyone who goes by ‘Sorcerer Supreme’.” 

“Rhodey? Pepper?” Sam offered. Steve interjected. 

“Not Pepper-” 

“Just because you don’t want your boyfriend’s ex hanging around too much doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be a good match.” 

Steve waved him away. “What about online dating? We’ll help you make a profile.” 

Natasha stood up. “I think I’m good,” she said, and quickly left the room. Sam snickered and Steve pointed at him. 

“Don’t laugh, you’re next!” 

Tony came back out of the kitchen. “You guys ready to eat?” 

Tony helped him off the couch and he was able to walk to the kitchen on his own, with a few small wobbles. Once he was at the table he plowed his way through a few plates of pasta. He tapped Tony’s plate with his fork, where it looked like he hadn’t eaten a thing. 

“Eat.” 

“Not everyone has your metabolism.” 

Steve dropped it. If he could trust Tony with his heart a second time, and trust him to help piece together Bucky’s shattered mind, and to whip the accords into something reasonable, he could trust Tony to feed himself. Tony gave his leg a few pats under the table. 

After dinner Steve was tired. He always slept a lot when he was healing. The rest of the team banned him from helping to clean up, so he made his was back to his room, Tony following a half step behind in case he stumbled. Tony paused at the doorway as Steve carefully lowered himself down onto the bed. 

“Maybe I should get going.” 

“I don’t know, I’m wounded. I think you should stay here in case I need help.” 

Steve clutched at his chest and Tony gave him a flat look. “You’re not fooling anyone.” 

Steve dropped his hand. “It was worth a shot.” He rubbed at his chest absentmindedly. “I might actually take the stitches out, they’re itching.” 

“Don’t you dare. You were in surgery yesterday, it’s too soon.” 

“Itching means they’re done. It’s a huge pain when I heal over them and have to cut them out.” 

He pulled his shirt up and started trying to unwrap the bandages. Tony came over and batted his hand away, kneeling in front of him and carefully undoing the bandage himself. He went to the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth, and used it to unstick all the cotton pads that were matted to Steve’s chest with blood. Tony touched around some of the smaller ones, frowning. 

“The big ones need to stay in, at least until tomorrow. Some of the stitches for the smaller cuts might be alright to take out, if they’re really itching.” 

He looked up at Steve who nodded. Tony didn’t look happy about it but he stood up and brushed off his pants. In the past, Tony would have fought him on it. Would have said to keep them in, then Steve would have taken them out himself and done a bad job of it, then Tony would have gotten mad. Now, he stood up. “I’ll go get the scissors.” 

Tony left the room and came back with their tiny pair of scissors from the first aid kit, along with tweezers. He kneeled down again and carefully cut and removed the thread in a few of the smaller cuts. Steve winced as he did it, but once it was done he felt much better. He had let his skin fully heal over stitches once, and after spending a half hour in the bathtub trying to cut little pieces of string out of his thigh he swore to never let it happen again. Tony wiped all the tools down and rewrapped Steve’s chest, his hands shaking slightly. When he was done, Steve put his shirt back on and grabbed Tony’s wrist. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

Tony didn’t meet his eyes. “Sure feels like it.” 

“I made my own choices. I don’t regret them. Not this one, at least. Stay.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

Tony’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “Because things are starting to go back to exactly how they used to be.” 

“Isn’t it a good thing, that we’re falling back together? We were happy.” 

“Not at the end. Not when we could hardly speak to each other and you spent all day in the gym and I spent all night in the lab. Not in Germany or the airport or in Siberia. I don’t want to slide right back to where we were. We need to do something different, and until I figure out how, I don’t want to retread the same tracks.” 

“And I don’t want to lose what we had because you’re afraid of what it could become. We had something really good for a long time. A bitter end doesn’t erase the value of everything before it. Why can’t we pick up where we left off, now that we’re wiser to what went wrong?” 

Tony paused, thinking that over. Steve held out his hand, a silent plea for Tony to trust him. 

Funny how in all of the scenarios he had pictured at the very start of this, of all the ways their first meeting after the fight in Siberia could have gone, he had never pictured any where he reached out to Tony. It was all Tony forgiving him, or Tony hating him, completely out of Steve’s control. 

They hadn’t made any progress until Steve had sought Tony out that first night. It was time to stop dwelling in the past, and shift to building the future himself...starting with reaching out. Tony has offered his hand in the hospital, and now it was Steve’s turn. Tony always liked to say that the best apology was doing better next time, so that was what he was going to do. 

Tony took his hand, and Steve pulled him down so they were both lying down facing the same way on the bed. He wrapped an arm around Tony, careful not to get too high on his chest. 

“You know what I did today?” 

He felt Tony relax, the familiar words settling both of them. 

“What did you do today? Captain America things? Did you fight for truth, justice, and the American way? Did you make your country proud?” 

“I didn’t, not one bit. I sat on the couch. The rest of the team made and then cleaned up dinner and I didn’t help. I made out with my boyfriend and gossiped with friends. No Captain America things.” 

Tony put his hand over Steve’s and laced their fingers together. “You doofus, those are all Captain America things. Everything you do is, because Captain America is a neat little label to sum up all of the reckless righteousness of Steve Rogers.” 

Steve shook his head. “Captain America is a symbol someone else made up, and it’s one that I gave up when it became too heavy for me to bear. I’m not a perfect soldier, and I don’t think that I ever was, despite what all the newsreels say.” 

“You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be you, and that’s more than enough. The team doesn’t follow you because they think you have all the answers, or because they’re caught up in some warped form of hero worship. Well, maybe Scott is a little star struck. Everyone else though, we follow you because we know you’ll always try to do the right thing, and you won’t stop fighting until you get there. You’re an idealist in a world of cynics, and when you speak to us you shine with a light of conviction that’s blinding. You burn away everything until all that is left is the fact that the world isn’t fair, and we have the power to make it better. You’ve always had that inside you, regardless of your stage name or whether or not you could bench press a car.” 

Steve tightened his arms around Tony and pressed his forehead into Tony’s back. “Thank you.” 

Tony patted his hand and they laid in silence for a few moments. Steve loosened his grip and Tony shifted slightly. “Hey, you know what I did today? I threw away a perfectly good apple pie. I graffitied a baseball stadium. I stomped on a flag.” 

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Is that right?” 

“Yeah. I pushed an old lady into traffic. I prank called the president. I taught boy scouts how to flip people off and girl scouts how to cuss like sailors.” 

“That’s quite the rap sheet.” 

“It sure is. And you know what else? I made out with Captain America on the couch. I didn’t let him do dishes. Steve, you’re going to have to kick me out of the country. I’ll go be Canadian, and live wild among the moose.” 

“Then come back in two hours because you miss your computers?” 

“And come back in two hours because I miss my computers. And maybe you too.” 

Steve hugged him close, and that was how they stayed until they both drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  
  


Steve was feeling pretty good the next day. All of the cuts had switched from hurting to itching, and Tony was a warm and comforting weight in front of him. Hard to believe that a few days ago he had been grateful to have Tony’s coat, and now he had the man himself. He rubbed his hand up and down Tony’s back until he woke up with a sleepy yawn. Tony stretched and rolled over to face him, blinking slowly. Steve brushed a hand down the side of his face, and Tony closed his eyes again, luxuriating in the contact. 

“You want to get breakfast?” 

Tony opened one eye. “No.” His eye fell shut again. 

“I’ll make you coffee.” Steve tried offering. 

“Hmmm...” 

Oh, Tony was tempted. He sweetened the deal. “And I’ll make you muffins.” 

Tony opened his eyes and pushed himself upright. “You’re not making anything while you’re injured. I’ll make food.” 

They went downstairs and most of the team was already sitting around the kitchen table. Conveniently, there were scrambled eggs already on the stove, so Steve dished up two plates and passed one to Tony, both of them taking a seat at the table. The teams cheerful chatter was cut off by a beep from Friday. 

“Suborbital satellites have picked up an approaching force. Estimated arrival time: four months.” 

The team looked at each other grimly. Thanos was on his way, and they had only a few months to prepare. 

“We’re in the endgame now,” Tony said grimly. Under the table Steve took his hand. 

“And we’re going to win. Together.” 

Tony squeezed his hand. “Together.” 

Natasha raised her cup. “Together.” 

Everyone else repeated it in one voice, the sound echoing through the kitchen. 

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they beat Thanos the first time around before he snapped because they were all together and lived happily ever after, the end.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
